


Please Let Me Affirm Your Sexuality

by tryslora



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider, Peer Counselor Shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone talks to Shitty, including his Hausmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Let Me Affirm Your Sexuality

**Author's Note:**

> I recently said I wouldn't ship Ransom/Holster. Then I had this idea of the two of them told through Shitty's eyes, all based on that one line from when Bitty talked to him. So yes, this. Many thanks to Mags for reading this over for me (kisses!).

“Thanks for listening to me.”

Shitty stands when Pam does—he’s still a gentleman, even if he’s a bro. “‘Course, dude. Any time.”

“You know, you’re really good at this.” She goes up on her tiptoes, hauls him in for a hug, slapping his back when she does so. She stands back, tucks a long curl behind one ear. “You should be a peer counselor or something.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.” He goes to grab his bag, remembers that Bitty had been handing out paper bags when everyone left the Haus that morning, and digs it out to see what’s in it. Chocolate chip. Bitty’s been on a cookie kick lately—easier to carry around campus than a pocket pie. “Here, have a cookie.”

He hands her half the bag and they stand there chatting for a few more minutes before she walks off with two in her hand, waving once before she turns away.

“Got one of those for me?” Lardo has a hand in the bag before he can close it, and he lightly hip checks her. She nudges right back into him, her smaller body shoving into his space so she can get two cookies out of the bag. He peeks in; still two left for him, which is fine.

Lardo sits back on the bench where Shitty had been talking to Pam, and he sits down with her. “So,” she says around a mouthful of cookie. “That was Pam from my art history class, wasn’t it?”

“Mm.” The cookies are fucking amazing. Of course they are—Bitty doesn’t bake anything that isn’t amazing—but these… Shitty would wonder if the chocolate chips were spiked with something if he weren’t sure Bitty wouldn’t do that.

Or maybe he would, with the right little push. Shitty’s thinking they need brownies for the next kegster.

Lardo’s elbow is sharp in his ribs.

“Just turning out to be one of those weeks,” he says. “Pam’s the third one in four days.”

“She okay with you telling me that?” Lardo finishes off the first cookie and licks melted chocolate from her fingertips. Shitty would say something about what that does to him, but Lardo’s his best bro (after Jack) first, and the potential love of his life second. He hasn’t figured out how to avoid fucking with the epic broship, so he lets the rest slide.

“I asked before saying anything, yeah. Always do.” Shitty takes the last cookie out of the bag, holds it up in a toast to Lardo. They tap them together lightly as Shitty says, “Here’s to Pam, Shane, and one person who’s not ready to be all the way out. May they find the right one to fuck here at Samwell.”

“Crude,” Lardo says approvingly, and Shitty doesn’t answer because he’s got a mouthful of cookie.

#

“Hey, Shits.” Holster drops into the chair on the opposite side of the table in the library where Shitty is studying.

“Where’s Ransom?”

Holster glances off to the side, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated. “Under the table. Can’t tell if he’s crying or taking a nap. I’ll check on him in a couple hours.”

“Mm.” In a couple of hours Shitty plans to be back at the Haus and up on the roof, joint in hand, relaxing. He doesn’t have much left of his senior year and he fully intends to enjoy what’s left to the fullest. “What about you?”

“I’ve been thinking about DXE’s spring formal.” Holster leans on the table. “You know Vicky Bright? She asked me to go with her.”

Shitty holds his hand up to about the height he thinks Vicky might be, if she’s even that much. She makes Lardo look tall. “She could dance on your feet, bro.”

“Yeah.” Holster deflates, then a moment later abruptly sits upright, holding both hands up. “It’s not that I think she’s too short. Or that I don’t think she could kick my ass—because I’m actually pretty sure that in the right situation, she could. I’ve heard she’s got a black belt in some martial art. I was just thinking… I mean lately I’ve been wondering…”

“Yeah?”

Holster’s gaze flicks sideways, eyes hooded, and he shrugs. “Just been thinking maybe I’d like to go for someone taller.” He pushes back from the table. “I’m gonna go poke Ransom. Make sure he wakes up to finish studying for cell bio.”

Shitty makes a noise that Holster must take as agreement, because he’s gone before the sound finishes. A few tables away, Holster bends down, crouches there for a moment before he gently pushes Ransom’s shoulder.

A cup sets down on the table and Lardo pulls out the chair next to him and falls into it. “Holster looked… awkward.”

Shitty’s still not sure what to make of the conversation, so he just says, “Yeah,” and takes the lid off the coffee Lardo’s brought. He takes a small sip, savors the taste. “Before you ask, don’t know what he wanted. Worried about dating a short girl.”

Lardo’s gaze narrows. “Really.”

Shitty doesn’t have to read minds to know where her head’s going, so he points out, “There _is_ almost a foot and a half difference between the two of them. Besides, I don’t think that’s all of it.”

“No?”

“No.”

Holster’s managed to get Ransom out from under the table and back in his chair. Shitty can’t hear what they’re saying, but Holster claps Ransom on the shoulder and walks away, heading towards the cafe, while Ransom pulls out his books again and stares blankly at the page.

Shitty’s missing part of the story, he’s sure of it. He figures they’ll tell him if they want him to know.

#

“Shitty.” Ransom falls onto the old couch, handing over a controller with one hand while with the other he flicks the remote for the TV to turn it on. “Game with me.”

As if Shitty’s going to argue a chance to take a break. He can play something for an hour then get back to studying, or maybe get something to eat and a drink, and study after that. Either way, there’s still plenty of time for studying later.

And it’d all be fine if Ransom could sit still. But no, his leg’s jiggling where he sits, fidgeting until the couch shakes.

“Something on your mind, bro?”

Ransom glances sideways; Shitty has no idea at what. “Nope,” Ransom says, and Shitty can hear the _yes_ behind the word.

“That’s fine.” Shitty picks up the remote, gets the game started, and everything’s silent except for the sound of computerized gunfire and zombie groans. There’s a moment when Shitty’s respawning when he glances over and asks, “So, is Holster going to DXE’s formal with Vicky?”

Ransom flinches, lets a zombie get to close and dies. He touches the buttons while waiting to respawn. “Nope.”

“Mm.” Shitty switches weapons. “Didn’t figure he would. Didn’t sound like she was his type.”

Ransom relaxes back against the sofa, makes a small noise of agreement. “Figured he’d go anyway.”

“Maybe he’s holding out for something better.” It’s not Holster’s usual MO, but Shitty knows that people change. “Surprised he hasn’t been talking to you about it. Didn’t think you two had any secrets.”

There’s tension returning to the way Ransom slouches, his fingers jabbing at the controller. “Yeah. Well. Maybe we do.”

Shitty doesn’t pry again after that. If Ransom’s not offering, he’s not going to push him into saying anything. And if Lardo shows up with beer and trounces them both, well, hey, that’s not a bad end to the day.

#

“How many is it now?” Lardo picks a blue marker from the stack, continues drawing whatever it is she’s doing to a sticker. Shitty’s just glad that there’s no glitter or rhinestones and glue involved this time, so his fingers get to stay clean.

“One more, which brings me up to four. Ish.” Because Shitty’s been thinking, and the problem is, while he thinks he has an idea what’s going on, he hasn’t figured out what to do about it. And of course, Lardo can’t let it be.

“Ish?” She tilts her head, the tip of the blue pen hovering over his hand. When he doesn’t respond, she dots color over the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

“ _Ish_ ,” he repeats, because how the hell is he supposed to explain it? She makes a face and goes back to her art; he hands her the green when she asks and puts the blue back in the bin.

“Bitty said there was pie.” Holster looks around the edge of the doorway, a frown furrowing his forehead. “I don’t smell pie.”

“Might still be some in the fridge, but there’s no new pie.” Shitty shrugs. “Just me and Lardo and art.”

Holster rifles through the fridge, manages to find a yogurt and a half an apple pie. He upends the yogurt over the top of the pie, and when Shitty gives him a look, he says, “It’s caramel flavored. On top of pie. It makes it almost healthy, when Jack asks.”

Not really, but Shitty will let him have his illusions.

When Shitty kicks the remaining chair out, Holster grabs it and sits. Shitty can almost feel the vibe from Lardo as she carefully does not look up. He nudges two more markers toward her and she grabs them, scribbling fiercely and ignoring Holster even more determinedly.

Holster glances at her, then lets his gaze slide away as he takes a bite of pie.

Shitty waits.

“Do you ever think about guys?” Holster asks, and Shitty resists making any sort of sound that would tell Holster that he’s just confirmed all his theories.

“Not really, but that’s not my thing. Might change if I met the right one, don’t know.” Shitty tilts his chair back, stretches out his legs. “Do you?”

Holster takes another bite, chews it slowly, then another bite. The silence is punctuated by the scrape of marker on a sticker, and the sound of Holster swallowing. “Sometimes,” Holster finally admits. “Been thinking maybe I’m more bi than straight.”

“Good for you.” When Holster doesn’t respond, Shitty furrows his brow, confused. “Isn’t it a good thing?”

“Not if the guy I’m thinking about doesn’t think about me,” Holster grumbles. “And is it worth screwing up the most epic thing in your life just because you’ve got an idea that maybe it could be something else?”

“Something more?” Shitty asks, because this conversation is too fucking similar to his own thoughts. In the background the scratch of markers slows, then stops.

Holster shakes his head. “Not more. Sex and romance is not _more_ than the most epic broship to ever bro. It’s something else. In addition to. But what if it doesn’t work? Would we still be bros?”

There’s dead silence as Shitty lets his chair fall, legs thumping on the ground. He leans in close, his words entirely for Holster even though he knows Lardo sits next to him, listening. “Dude. If you’re bros now, you’ll be bros for life. There is nothing that is going to come between an epic broship like that. Swap spit, handjobs, whatever, you will still be bros if it ends. But if it’s something else—something in addition to what you’ve already got—then maybe you’ve just got to fucking take the chance.”

“Bitty said something about pie?” Ransom comes around the corner, skidding to a stop when he catches the tension in the room. His gaze falls to the pie on the table. “Dude. Holster. Did you finish the pie?”

“Do you really mean that?” Holster asks, and Shitty nods.

Holster pushes back from the table, picks up the pie tin and pie, then sets it down on the counter. He crowds close to Ransom, nudging him back against the wall. “I haven’t finished the pie yet. We can take it up to the attic. But first I need to tell you something.”

Ransom’s eyebrows go up. “Okay, dude, what is it?”

Holster’s hand comes up, touches Ransom’s shoulder, then slides to cradle his head before he leans in, just barely kisses him. He steps back, cheeks flushed. “Oh yeah. I’m definitely bi.”

Ransom blinks. “Is that it? Well fine. Also bi. In case you were wondering. I’ve been wondering. About myself. And you.”

“So that’s settled then,” Holster says. “Hey Shitty, Ransom and I are bi.”

“Six,” Shitty says to Lardo. “You can officially make it six. No ish.” He waves at the door. “Go. Take the pie and your self-discovery upstairs and enjoy some privacy.” And they go, which is good, since they both definitely need to go relieve that tension they’ve been carrying around.

Lardo picks up another marker, makes some finishing touches to her sticker then peels it off the backing. Shitty just barely gets a chance to see what it looks like—a rainbow border around the words _will affirm all sexualities_ —before she sticks it to his chest.

“That’s gonna sting when it yanks my chest hair off later,” he grumbles, and she just pats it down and laughs.

The laugh falls away slowly, and she sits there, her hand against his skin. “Did you mean what you said?” she asks.

Shitty feels the surge of uncertainty that shivers under his skin, then disappears, replaced by warmth. “Nothing can come between epic bros,” he says solemnly. “Anything else would only add to it.”

Lardo stands up, holds out a hand. “There’s this room upstairs that I’ve got dibs on for next year. We’re going there.”

Her hand is small in his, but Shitty’s positive that in some ways she’s so much stronger than him. She’s taking charge, and he’s fine with it, willing to follow where Lardo leads, trusting that the friendship they have is more solid than anything else.

She tugs a little to get him moving. “If you think you’re done affirming sexualities for the moment?” she asks, grinning.

Shitty doesn’t bother to answer, just chases her up the stairs as she laughs. Sometimes actions are far better than words.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Please Let Me Affirm Your Sexuality by tryslora](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057041) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




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